


work to leave some part of you on this earth

by BittersweetDreamer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BittersweetDreamer/pseuds/BittersweetDreamer
Summary: She does this sometimes, remembers how it used to be, the different rules they played by as children. He knows in those moments she hates him for where they are now, hates herself for becoming just like all the other simple girls, hates them both for needing the other to survive.





	

"Little sister" Eddard says affectionately to the brown-haired babe who has just fallen asleep. He's on the bed, nestled tightly against his mother while his father has baby Lyarra in the crook of his arm. Eddard soon follows the babe to sleep, his five year old fist lost in his mothers dark locks. Jon is listening to the soft sounds of the children's breathing when he feels slender fingers tug at his hair. 

"He is the same age you were when I was born" Arya says with eyes half-closed. "Do you remember that day?"

"Aye”. Jon mumbles quietly in response, a smile forming as he speaks. "You were a loud babe. I remember the first few hours after you were born you wouldn't stop crying. Father-” Jon catches his mistake and feels Arya's fingers abandon his hair, watches her face, so like his own contort. Her furrowed brows and abandoned touch display the pain and guilt that six years together couldn't ease. But Ned softly pulls at the covers and her closed lip mouth full of doubt is replaced with a toothy smile. 

She does this sometimes, remembers how it used to be, the different rules they played by as children. He knows in those moments she hates him for where they are now, hates herself for becoming just like all the other simple girls, hates them both for needing the other to survive. Her doubt is as often and as sure as winter but so is the love she bears for the small family they've made. It is when he feels her fingers curl in his hair again that he continues to speak. 

"Uncle took me in to see you while your mother was sleeping. You were laid up beside her in the bed, red-faced and finally quiet. You opened your eyes when I got close and I'd never felt more like I had a family, that I belonged, than when those eyes were grey" Jon says solemnly, using his free hand to stroke Arya's face. "You never cried when I was in the room, you always reached for me, and I began to call you little sister only when your mother forbade me to call you what I first had". 

"And what was that?" Arya asks curiously as she places a small kiss on the top of Ned's auburn curls. Jon waits a moment before answering, taking a moment to glance at their four shapes and the bed they inhabit. The same bed Arya had been born into three and twenty years ago. He mouths the one syllable to himself before Arya raises a confused eyebrow, urging him to speak the word aloud. 

"Mine" Jon finally answers in a hoarse voice. "I called you mine". Arya doesn’t speak but nods knowingly. The connection to him had always been stronger than those shared between the rest of her family, but giving him children surprises her still. It surprises her more than anything else. 

During the war, Arya vowed to never be a wife or bear a child. The words were spoken aloud once in the house of black and white and quietly in her head each day. As a child, the notions of being a proper girl were thoughtlessly dismissed due to its limitation. As a woman, it was the potential of further loss that made her carefully forbid the duties of being a lady. To be free of responsibility was the only thing she had ever wanted when she was nine years old, but freedom was futile when she lacked a name, a home, and Jon Snow. It was impossible to keep the promise she made to herself at five and ten in a foreign city with little faith anything but death and the faint memory of a family, a birthright and her half-brother’ smile.

"What are you thinking about now?” the silence following his confession causes Jon to ask insecurely. 

"The past" Arya replies. Jon's about to rush out an apology, she can see it in his eyes, even as children they knew each other's thoughts and her ability to read his mind and finish his words only strengthened with time. "Don't look sad. I'm just remembering why and how I'm here now". 

"And are you happy?" Jon asks hopefully, sounding more like a boy of four and ten than a man two years shy of thirty. 

"Yes. And no" Arya replies honestly. "I am happy”

"But" Jon adds. 

"I sometimes wonder what the nine year old girl with bruised knees and hopes of being a Knight would think of this" Arya answers honestly. "Would think of me" she finishes, gesturing to the children sleeping on the bed. 

"I think she would be proud of you Arya”.

“And what makes you think that?” she asks with doubt. 

“Because you survived” Jon provides in an even tone. “Because there’s nothing more you have to prove. Because at the end of the day, it was you who chose this life” Jon finishes. 

"Mayhaps” Arya responds contently. “But children would surprise her regardless”. It hadn't been until  six years ago, when Sansa visited with her new golden-haired child that Arya entertained the idea of having a babe. At seven and ten, she found herself content with having Jon in her bed at night and on the practice field come morning. It wasn’t until she had been swelling for two moons that they traded vows before the heart tree, and only after Jon had begged her. 

She knew his affection for her could never be doubted, a formal union wasn't necessary to prove what his hands and mouth had every night in their bed. Her agreement came only when his face fell, whispering the word bastard, and saying no child should ever live such a way. They had stayed up that night discussing a name for the babe and Arya still remembers the shock of being excited for motherhood. The novel, warm feeling in her chest at the thought of being Jon's wife. 

"And me? I would imagine us to be quite a surprise" Jon adds insecurely. His grey eyes focused on the lightening sky outside, his hand holding tightly to Arya's. 

"No" she says sternly, bringing his hand up to her mouth, grazing his fingertips with her teeth. "You are my family. You have always been my family, you will always be my family" Jon finally looks at her now, a confused smile playing on his lips.  

"You were right Jon, all those years ago. I have always been yours. And it is the only true thing I have always or ever will know". 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Wanted to post a story, its been a while(:  
> Comments and Kudos are amazing!  
> Follow me on tumblr, at ipaintmylipsred.tumblr.com. I take requests!


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